


bubbles

by flirtingwithtrackers



Series: tumblr drabbles [1]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Fluff, Texting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-01
Updated: 2015-04-07
Packaged: 2018-03-20 16:08:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,853
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3656658
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flirtingwithtrackers/pseuds/flirtingwithtrackers
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>based on the prompt: “I sent a selfie of myself in the tub to the wrong number and you responded back with another selfie. Holy shit you’re really attractive.”</p><p>clarke gets a little tipsy and sends a photo to the wrong person</p><p>or, the one where they meet over texting</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> let’s all pretend for a moment that it’s even likely possible to send a photo to a wrong, _unknown_ number on any smart phone…. just let it happen
> 
> thanks [castielscrusade](http://castielscrusade.tumblr.com) for the readthrough :))))
> 
> okAY AND MAYBE I WAS THINK ABOUT ELIZA TAYLOR'S VINE WHERE SHE TRIES TO SAY BUBBLES ANGRILY WHEN I WAS NAMING THIS, DON'T JUDGE ME

There are bubbles surrounding her shoulders, clouding the water and keeping her concealed. The water is a light, shimmery blue, courtesy of her newest bath bomb, just a few shades lighter than the bright blue of her eyes. She can also see the frizzy curls at the nape of her neck, the stubborn strands that  _refuse_  to stay in her bun, in the selfie too. A few curls are dampened against her temples. She’s holding a glass in one hand, half-filled with her favorite red, as she smiles at the camera teasingly.

Clarke laughs to herself as she sends the photo to Raven, proof that’s she holding up her end of the bargain. Raven had tried to drag her out to a party earlier that night, refusing to let Clarke wallow in her room studying on a Friday night. Clarke had basically begged Raven to let her stay in for the night—she had had the longest week in existence, with two papers due  _and_ covering a few volunteer shifts for Nyko at the clinic. Raven ceded on one condition:  _no studying, only relaxation. You work too hard, kid._  With a promise to go out the next weekend and a big thank you hug, Clarke rushed home. She watched a few episodes of  _Property Brothers_ before running a hot bath and grabbing the biggest wine glass she could find.

She sets her phone down on the ledge of the tub before sighing, closing her eyes. A few moments later, a soft ding rings throughout the bathroom. Clarke opens her phone, expecting a photo of a slightly tipsy Raven, and definitely  _not_  expecting a photo of a man with dark skin, shirtless and smiling at the camera.

_Oh god._

She just sent a selfie of herself  _in the tub_  to the wrong number, a stranger.

And he sent her a selfie back. 

He’s unfairly attractive, Clarke can’t help but notice. His olive skin is evenly toned, brushed with small speckles of freckles. He’s smirking at the camera, his lips pulled into a half-grin, showing straight, white teeth. He’s also not wearing a shirt,  _not that she particularly minds_ , and Clarke can see his broad shoulders and just the top of his muscled biceps. He seems to be in a bedroom, showing the dark blue of sheets behind him.

Interested by this new development,  _okay_ and feeling the slow tingle that usually accompanies a few glasses of wine, Clarke decides to have a little fun with this, quickly typing back a response:

_Do you normally hang out in your room shirtless on a Friday night?_

Clarke waits a few moments, staring anxiously at her phone until it dings.

**No, but I didn’t want you to feel underdressed.**

A few seconds later another text comes in.

**Do you normally send bath tub selfies to strangers on a Friday night?**

Clarke laughs before responding, setting her glass down on the ridge of the bath tub.

 _No, but I think I may just start making it a habit_.  _Especially if the strangers are as attractive as you._

She stares at the text, biting her lip. She quickly sends the text, locking her phone immediately afterwards, her heart pounding in her chest. Clarke grabs her wine, taking a few generous sips, before she relaxes against her bath cushion. A few minutes later, another text comes in and Clarke tries not to answer it immediately, staring at the  **Text Message: from Unknown**  on her lock screen for a few moments. She takes a deep breath before sliding it open.

**Not so bad yourself.**

**Enjoying that wine?**

Clarke smiles down at her screen, feels a flush in her cheeks, a result of the wine running through her system.  _Okay_ , and maybe the cute stranger flirting with her. Clarke can imagine the smirk on his face, like the one in the photo. Thinking of photos, she wonders if he’d send another one…

She snaps a picture of her legs, the top of her thighs peaking out of the blue water, her toes pressed against the edge of the tub—like all the ones she sees on her instagram feed. She can just see the bright red of her pedicure, small pops of color among the blues and whites of the photo.

She sends the photo, a quick text accompanying it:

_Why yes, yes I am._

She can’t help but think maybe the photo is proof of that statement.

Clarke laughs out loud when the man tries to mimic her pose, propping his feet up on his desk. He’s wearing dark jeans, long white socks poking out at the bottom. His computer is set up on his desk in the background, open to a word doc.

Clarke quickly responds, her lips tugging up into her own smirk.

 _And here I thought you didn’t want me to feel overdressed_.

The response is quick.

**Oh, can’t have that, now can we?**

The text is followed by a photo, proving his good intentions of making her feel comfortable.

This is definitely not the night of relaxation she had planned out for herself, but Clarke can’t help but think Raven wouldn’t mind as she sends the mystery man another photo.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> part 2 - phone sexxxxxxxxx

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> got some requests for a part 2, so here it is!!!!
> 
> noTICE UPGRADE IN RATING
> 
> thanks to [griifinclarke](http://griifinclarke.tumblr.com) for betaing and [commmanderblake](commmanderblake.tumblr.com) for being wonderful and helping me generate some ideas for this fic :))
> 
> eNJOYS

They’ve been texting for a few weeks now, for short bursts at a time when Clarke isn’t in class or stuck at the clinic and when Bellamy isn’t writing his thesis or hovering over his little sister. It’s a nice distraction for the both of them, just something fun and light when they have the time. Clarke can’t really help but smile whenever Bellamy’s name pops up on her screen (that’s his name, _Bellamy_ ). They’ve almost made a tradition of sending a photo at the beginning of every conversation—from Clarke sticking her tongue out at him when she’s sitting on the bus to Bellamy sending a photo of the mess his sister left in the kitchen that morning. It’s _fun_ , okay?

And they may have never met each other and she doesn’t even know what his last name is.  _Okay_ , so she does know his last name, but she had been very apprehensive about it—they were practically strangers! But then Bellamy had countered with “Clarke, I’ve seen you almost naked. I’m pretty sure you can tell me your last name,” and yeah, he had a point. _Regardless_ , Bellamy has kind of become a fixture in her life for the last month or so. So it’s completely _natural_  that he’s on her mind. And _no_ , her being drunk doesn’t mean anything. 

Clarke just got back from the bar, Harper’s engagement party. She had drank a little more than intended she realizes as she stumbles into her apartment. She slowly strips out of her dress, struggling as she reaches for the zipper in the back. Clarke staggers into her bedroom in her underwear before eventually collapsing onto her bed, her cell phone hanging loosely in her hand. She rolls over, flopping onto her back, letting out a heavy sigh. 

Tonight had been a long night, full of smiles she didn’t entirely feel. It wasn’t that she wasn’t happy for Harper (because she _was_ , she _is_ ), it’s just too much of a reminder how long it’s been since she dated—and how horribly that turned out. Her fingers type out a message to Bellamy of their own accord, the desire to interact with someone becoming too much.

_Are yuo alone?_

Clarke spreads out her arms, staring at the ceiling, her eyes half closed, as she waits for him to reply. A few moments later her phone vibrates next to her on the bed.

**Why hello to you too. Yeah I’m alone, why?**

Lol what are you doing right now???

**Why princess? Trying to seduce me?**

Her answer is immediate.

_Maybe ;)_

Clarke is staring at his contact in her phone. She set the first selfie he ever sent her as his contact photo, so he’s smirking down at her. In a moment of impulse, she presses the phone icon on her screen and holds her breath, hoping he’ll pick up.

“Hello? Clarke?”

His voice is deep, a rough gravel that causes Clarke to shiver involuntarily. He almost sounds like he’s trying to whisper and Clarke wonders just how late it is. She doesn’t realize she hasn’t responded until he repeats her name, concern lacing his tone.

“Yeah, I’m here.”

“You doing okay?” The concern is still there and Clarke’s heart clenches.

“I’m fine, just a little.. a little lonely,” Clarke blushes, her blood racing underneath her skin.

“Why? What happened?”

“My friend got engaged. I’m happy for her but…” Clarke trails off, embarrassed to continue.

“Ah, yeah. I get it, princess.” 

Clarke smiles gratefully at his words. She lets out a sigh as she settles further into her comforter. 

There’s a short silence, neither of them talking.

“Well, who am I to leave a girl alone this late at night?” Clarke can hear the smirk in his voice and she gets the urge to smack him, as though he were actually here.

“Oh shit, I forgot to send a picture!” Clarke exclaims, giggling as she snaps a blurry selfie. She’s smiling, her lipstick a little smeared around her lips, her eyes closed. Her cleavage is on display, her breast heaving out of her bra, but like Bellamy said, _he’s seen her almost naked anyways._

Bellamy groans over the phone, disguising it as a cough, when he opens the photo and Clarke giggles at him.

“Well, I’m sure you looked gorgeous tonight, even with clothes on,” his voice is even deeper and it crawls under Clarke’s skin as she blushes furiously.

“What are you wearing? I’d hate for you to be overdressed,” Clarke all but rasps into her phone, a smile leaking into her tone.

Bellamy laughs, probably remembering the night they first “meet.” Clarke smiles at the sound, her eyes closed, enraptured by the sound, memorizing it.

He stutters as he describes the intricate pattern on his boxers, laughing nervously. He clears his throat before asking if her bra and panties match. Clarke giggles again, feeling her face burning as she draws light fingertips over the soft skin by her hipbone.

“Where’s my photo?” Clarke asks innocently.

He sends her a selfie consisting mostly of his bare chest. Only his smirk shows in the corner to accommodate for his abs at the bottom of the photo.

A few moments later, Clarke tells him her bra and panties don’t match anymore, because she’s not wearing both of them. Bellamy groans her name and she revels in the sound, letting it vibrate through her.

Her hand travels down at her own volition, but she doesn’t start pressing firm circles over her clit until Bellamy tells her too. He curses when Clarke moans into the phone.

She comes with his name on her lips, a slurred “Bellamy, fuck.” He kept whispering into the phone, _That’s it, baby_  and _Come for me, Clarke_ , and honestly she was a goner _long_ before that.

She’s catching her breath, gasping for air, a smile split across her face.

“Bellamy, did you— umm—” she stammers and he chuckles in response.

“No, I— I wanted to help you out first,” he clears his throat afterwards.

Clarke grins as she begins to describe—in detail, mind you, _explicit detail_ —exactly what she would do if he was here, how her lips would wrap around his cock, sending another photo of her smile so he can see the color of her lipstick and imagine it smeared on his cock as she describes how she’d press kisses up his shaft.

They lay on the phone is silence after Bellamy finishes, a comfortable silence. Clarke starts giggling a few minutes in. Bellamy joins her soon after, laughing heartily.

“Well, that was fun,” Bellamy says, and they both start laughing again.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> they finally meet irl

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i hope you guys like it! this is the 3rd and _final_ installment

He lives a town over. Clarke had sent him a selfie from the coffee shop near campus that she likes to study at when she just can’t be at home anymore, her thick-framed glasses on and a blue, chipped mug in her hand. Bellamy had recognized the ridiculous cartoon coffee cup hung on one of the horribly orange walls. Within the next few weeks, coffee dates had occurred, during which they got to know one another better. Well enough, in fact, that Clarke finally invited him over to her place.

After the initial awkward greeting, the nervous laughter in her doorway, Bellamy made them dinner, with grocery items Clarke _insisted_  on buying for him as long as he _insisted_  on cooking, and she practically moans when she finally tastes his spaghetti carbonara. In exchange, he brought over 3 Redbox movies, mainly because he didn’t know what she’d like to watch, but also kind of hoping that maybe they could watch more than one if the date– _yes, date–_ went well enough.

They’re an hour into _Boyhood_ , sitting on separate sides of the couch. Clarke has her legs curled underneath her, as she leans against the couch arm. She keeps sneaking looks at Bellamy, who’s sprawled over the couch in comparison to her crouched position with his arm around the back of the couch and his knees spread apart. Her looks are becoming less and less stealthy as she takes longer peaks, causes Bellamy's eyes to skirt in her direction.

Clarke quickly looks back at the movie, her cheeks burning. When she looks again, he’s smirking, the first facial expression she had ever really seen on him. Her heart clenches at the sight and she battles between wanting to hit him and wanting to kiss the damn smirk off his face. 

When Clarke’s foot starts to fall asleep (something she is trying not to do herself, this movie is _slow-paced_ ), she shifts, trying to stretch her legs out. She’s moving around for a few moments before Bellamy is looking over at her, patting his lap in invitation. Clarke eyes him wearily, but then he’s grabbing her feet, placing them into his lap. His big hands are warm, sending a shiver down her spine as they come into contact with her cold feet.

She settles back into the couch, trying to focus her attention onto the movie and not the way Bellamy’s fingertips are pressing slow circles into the bottoms of her feet as he keeps his eyes on the screen. Clarke is trying to pay attention, _she really is_ , but Bellamy’s hand are inching further up her leg now, massaging her lower calf. Heat is rushing up her body, reddening her face and chest, as she forces herself to stare mindlessly at the television.

There’s no way he can be paying attention to this _boring_  movie, but he’s still staring at the screen, even as his hands move up further and further. He shifts a little to reach her upper calf, pressing into the muscles of her leg. When she moans, he quickly looks over at her, his eyes trying to convey innocence. But Clarke sees the smirk that spreads across his face when he turns away from her once again. She’s pretty sure he’s doing it on purpose now, but it feels so good that she just can’t even care.

She slides down the couch, pillowing her head on the arm and pushing her legs further into Bellamy’s lap. His hands drag up past her knees, his fingers tickling the soft skin underneath, making her laugh. Bellamy isn’t looking at the screen anymore. His eyes take in the affect his touch has had on her--the flush of her skin, the dilation of her pupils. Clarke is glad to see that she isn’t the only one distracted, if Bellamy’s dazed expression is any indication.

His hands are traveling further up her thighs now, big hands pushing up the hem of her dress. It’s not until his thumbs are pressing into the soft skin of her inner thigh that Clarke freezes, “Wait.”

Bellamy stops, hands raising a few inches off her skin as he looks up at her, concerned.

“I just–” Clarke stutters, embarrassed by her sudden exclamation, “We haven’t even kissed yet,” because _no_ , she is not counting the kisses she planted on his cheek after the last few coffee dates. 

The concern drains from Bellamy’s expression as her face pinks. He moves from his spot under her legs, settling his knees and arms on either side of her body as he maneuvers to hover over her. He carefully leans in to place his lips over hers. It’s a chaste kiss, softs lips brushing over soft lips, until Clarke presses up into him, her hand going up to the side of his face. She slides her tongue across her bottom lip and Bellamy opens his mouth to her. The kiss deepens, Bellamy licking into her mouth.

He pulls away with a smile on his face. “Well, we definitely have now.”

He smirks as he moves back in to capture her lips again, his hands reaching for the hem of her dress. Clarke hums into his mouth in approval. They never know how the movie ends, but neither of them seem too concerned.

**Author's Note:**

> hope you like it my darlings!
> 
> come cry with me on [tumblr](http://clarkeslight.tumblr.com) :))


End file.
